


All A Facade

by relvic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Prison, george visits dream in prison, like the word sex is mentioned once, they do kiss tho, very VERY slight implied NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relvic/pseuds/relvic
Summary: "See, here’s the thing about cutting ties with everything you’ve ever loved: if the thing you’re trying to cut off doesn’t care, then there’s no point in cutting it. And George did exactly that."-or-Apathetic, indifferent, selfish George visits Dream in prison because he needs something from him. And Dream needs something from George.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	1. version 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i have never posted anything on ao3 (or any fanfiction site for that matter) before so this is probably gonna be seen by no one! that's fine though, this is just for me because I spent an hour writing it instead of doing my calculus. ALSO this was heavily inspired by "the kings gambit" series by SummerFlingsandThings here on ao3 so if you see similarities uhhhh thats why. (amazing fic btw :)

Sam's voice comes floating through the walls again, drawing Dream from his haze of mindlessly listening to the clock tick and watching the weak light from the lava dance on the walls. “Dream, you have a visitor.”

A visitor. How strange. It surely wasn’t Tommy; he had assured Dream that he would not be back for a long time. Distantly, Dream heard the sounds of the lava beginning to fall away, signaling that whoever it was would be there soon. Dream reached for the last remaining possession he had—his mask—and clipped it behind his head. The smooth porcelain could hardly be called white anymore, as it was now covered in a layer of dirt, blood, and ash. The smile painted across the front, however, remained unchanged, forever projecting the image Dream wanted everyone else to see when they looked at him.

When the last of the lava finally dripped into the large pool, Dream squinted his eyes at the two figures who stood at the edge of the room across from the cell. Next to the one clad in shining armor, was a figure Dream would recognize anywhere. _George._ Interesting.

In the distance, Dream watched as Sam put his hand on George’s shoulder in an attempt to “comfort” him. Dream knew that George needed no comfort, that the tear-filled eyes and slumped shoulders were all part of a façade. A convincing one, too, to everyone except Dream.

See, here’s the thing about cutting ties with everything you’ve ever loved: if the thing you’re trying to cut off doesn’t care, then there’s no point in cutting it. And George did exactly that. When Dream had first learned this, that George simply did everything for himself, he had been hurt. But soon it became clear that George was an asset to him—he was intelligent, skilled, and proficient at everything he did (and good at sex, but that was just an added bonus). George knew from the beginning that he was being used by Dream, and he didn’t care, so long as he benefitted from it, which made him the perfect partner.

The platform finally arrived the opposite end of the lake, depositing George onto the smooth obsidian that made up the floor, walls, and ceiling of the cell. “Tell me when you’re ready, George!” Sam called as the lava flowed back down, covering the entrance once again.

“Take off the mask, you idiot. No one can see you but me,” George quipped, then, as an afterthought, “why does it matter anyway?”

Dream complied, opening his mouth to answer, but was cut off by George shoving him sharply against the wall and kissing him roughly as soon as the mask dropped into his hand. Dream sighed contentedly and melted into it slightly. If there was anything he missed more than being able to walk free, it was this.

George was the first to pull away, keeping his hands pressed into Dream’s waist. “You taste gross,” he said, grimacing slightly.

“Sorry that I don’t have the best self-care routine,” Dream shot back, “it’s not like there’s much I can have in here.”

“Whatever,” George said, kissing him again.

When they broke apart again, Dream spoke first, panting slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, this is nice, but why did you come here?”

“To make out with you, I was bored,” George answered, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come on now, you know that’s a lie.”

When George spoke again, Dream was not expecting it to be bitter. “You know, I’m a bit disappointed in you. You really got yourself locked up in here by a bunch of, what, sixteen-year-olds? Pathetic, I thought you were a bit better than that.” The tone of George’s voice was harsh, it almost hurt Dream. _Almost._

“Relax, George. I have a plan you can’t know about yet. Trust me, though, it’s going to be great,” Dream said, and grinned widely, to show that he was confident. The truth was, being put into prison had thrown a wrench into his plans, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He helped build this place, knew how everything worked, knew that there were minor flaws that would allow him to escape. He just needed to figure out how to do it.

“Liar,” George sneered, “You didn’t plan to be in here at all. And now you need my help getting out.”

Dream huffed. “You know me too well. Why do you care about me being escaping, anyway? What’s it to you whether I’m in here or out there?”

George just sighed. “I can’t keep up the ‘grieving ex-boyfriend’ act forever, Dream,” George said, pausing as if to think for a moment, “actually, I probably can. I just don’t care to. But if I let them know that I’m still on your side—if you can even say I’m on your side—then they will throw me in here, too, and I personally like living in my own house.”

Dream just chuckled dryly. “Liar,” Dream said, mocking George, “There’s something else that you need, isn’t there?”

George continued, “That, and without you, I am powerless. No one cares about the great King George when there’s no one there to reinforce my power. They may be kids, but they aren’t stupid-- they know that we are a duo, that we need each other to function.”

Dream did not like that George was right; he wished that he needed George less. It was beginning to become obvious that he had made a mistake in thinking that maintaining his relationship with George would be more beneficial to him than hurtful, and he made a mental note of this. _Ah well, something to deal with later._ Right now, George was his best bet at escaping, and something else like affection pulled at the back of Dream’s mind.

“Well, I guess it’s time to call in that favor from Techno, then,” Dream said as he pulled one of the books he was given from the chest. He wrote a short note out, then wrote “Dream’s Journal” on the front and signed underneath. “In case anyone else sees,” he explained when George looked at him quizzically. “If Sam finds out you’re taking this out, he will burn it. But he trusts you, so he probably won’t check to see if you have any items on the way out.”

Thirty minutes later, George exchanged one last tear-filled hug with Sam before walking out into the night with the book concealed against his stomach.


	2. version 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "George raises his hand, almost as if to reach out and cradle Dream’s face before he lets it drop, returning to his side and curling to a fist. “I don’t even know why I came here… I almost want to leave again.”  
> -or-  
> George finally visits Dream in prison, and it makes Dream more miserable than he already is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i decided to write an alternate version of the story in which dream and george actually care for each other, but the title still fits the story. some of the lines are the exact same in both versions, but i tried to twist them to fit the different characters of dream and george (and also i was too lazy to start from scratch lol). anyway, enjoy i guess :)

Sam’s voice comes floating through the walls again, drawing Dream from his haze of mindlessly listening to the clock tick and watching the weak light from the lava dance on the walls. “Dream, you have a visitor.”

A visitor. How strange. It surely wasn’t Tommy; he had assured Dream that he would not be back for a long time. Distantly, Dream heard the sounds of the lava beginning to fall away, signaling that whoever it was would be there soon. Dream had half a mind to try to make himself look presentable, running his hands through his grimy hair and attempting to clean the dirt and blood off his mask before clipping it back on. It was a wonder that Sam hadn’t taken the mask in the first place, but he was grateful that at least this one part of him hadn’t been stripped away, like the rest of him had.

Finally, the last of the lava dripped into the pool below, and in the distance, Dream could make out two figures standing on the edge of the other room, and soon the figure who was not clad in armor began to move towards him. The platform moved closer and closer, and white-hot panic pricked Dream’s scalp, moving down towards his fingertips. _George._

No. Dream was not prepared for George to come, not now. He hadn’t prepared his words, hadn’t practiced his tone, hadn’t practiced the façade yet. Last night’s dream was still too raw—the watery image of the two in George’s summer home together, holding hands and watching the sunset next to the pond had not yet faded away like the rest of his dreams always do.

The platform arrived, and George stepped in front of the cell. Sam’s voice informed them that George could just say when he wanted to leave, and the lava flowed back down slowly, casting red and orange shadows around the cell once again. The light flickered on George’s pale features, making his eyes and cheeks look hollower than Dream remembered. Or maybe that’s just what he looks like now. It is hard to tell.

George doesn’t say anything. Neither does Dream. They just sit there, looking at each other, Dream’s smile unchanging and George’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Dream breaks the silence first. “Why did you come here?”

George draws a shaky breath and then speaks calmly. “Take off the mask, you idiot. No one can see you but me,” then, as an afterthought, “why does it matter anyway?” Dream complies, reaching up and unclipping the mask and letting it fall into his open hand. Something like shock flickers across George’s face as he drinks in Dream’s marred face, dried blood trickling down one side of his face and a bruised eye and cheek on the other.

George raises his hand, almost as if to reach out and cradle Dream’s face before he lets it drop, returning to his side and curling to a fist. “I don’t even know why I came here… I almost want to leave again.” He says, looking around the desolate room. _No. Please stay._ Dream pleads in his mind.

He knows that letting George into his heart again is making him weak, but he doesn’t care. “I would do anything for you,” he had said, and he had meant it. That was two weeks before he had stripped him of the crown and cut off his last tie.

George speaks again, “They hate you, you know. Everyone. Even Sapnap and Karl and Quackity. They all hate you so much for what you did.”

_Do you hate me, too?_ Dream keeps his thoughts to himself. He needs to be stone cold and heartless. “Good,” he says. His voice is hoarse from the lack of water and use.

George’s voice breaks when he speaks next. “Do you care about me? Did you ever care about me?” The words cut straight through Dream’s heart. _Of course I did. Of course I do._

Dream just ignores the way his heart starts beating faster. He hopes George can’t hear it. “Is that why you came here, to ask me stupid questions you already know the answers to?” Dream asks, trying to put as much bitterness as he can into the words. “Come on, ask me something more interesting, it’s incredibly boring in here,” Dream gestures widely around him.

George’s eyes widen, the look on his face is one of pure hurt and anger. “You know what? Fuck you.” George turns around and faces the lava. “I’m never coming to visit you again. You can rot in here, for all I care.”

“Sam!” George calls, “Let me out, please! I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Alright. Step into the water, then.” George complies, and before Dream can say anything else, the potion comes down on George’s head and he is gone.

Dream stares at the spot where he stood and lets tears drip down his face, creating tracks in the layer of grime. _So, he does hate me._

Outside the cell, George tries-- and fails-- to conceal the tears running down his own face as makes the trek with Sam back to the outside of the prison.

When they finally arrive at the exit, Sam’s looks at George with concern. For the first time since he put Dream in the prison, Sam’s tone softens. “I’m so sorry,” he says simply, and pulls George into an uncomfortable hug against his armor. The two stay like that for a minute before George pulls away and walks home alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant decide whether i like the version of dream and george where they are selfish assholes or the version where they actually have feelings more so here's both. thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is reading this thank you!! i havent done much creative writing in a while so this was a fun refresher from all the essays ive written for school, and i love both dream and george's character on the SMP (especially the idea of apathetic george). feel free to leave criticism in the comments if you want, i definitely have tons of room to improve :)


End file.
